Winter's Icy Fingers Creep
by Flora Winters
Summary: Harry Potter forswears love and in the process of doing as such, his heart becomes a solid jewel of ice, transforming him into a glacial creature of cruelest beauty. Harry/Cedric
1. Chapter Prologue

Winter's Icy Fingers Creep

Flora_Winters

I do not own Harry Potter and I'm not making any money here either.

Summary: Harry Potter forswears love and in the process of doing as such, his heart becomes a solid jewel of ice, transforming him into a glacial creature of cruelest beauty. This story will contain boy love, explicit violence, and a strong usage of language.

Prologue

_It was only one hour ago_

_It was all so different then_

_There's nothing yet has really sunk in_

_Looks like it always did_

_This flesh and bone_

_It's just the way that you were tied in_

_Now there's no-one home_

_--Peter Gabriel_

It was so cold. The once loving hand he was holding in his own was colder than snow. The once tan skin was now whiter than a moth's fragile wings.

His pale, porcelain cheeks were wet with tears that he could no longer feel running their course down them. His flesh was numb. He was so terribly numb.

He gazed with empty, green eyes at the thin cotton sheet. It was like a ghost, covering the young man in which he would forever mourn.

"I'm all alone," he whispered to the still corpse. "Everything I love is always taken away from me."

Pain stabbed him in the chest. It felt like a blow from a thousand screaming souls in perpetual anguish. He doubled over in silent agony, squeezing that large hand, wishing with all his shattering heart that it would squeeze his back.

"Please," he sobbed, choking on tears that were bleeding straight from the cracks in his aching heart. "Please get up, Cedric."

There would be no more kind laughter. There would be no more warm hugs or gentle, passionate kisses. He was never going to hear another "I love you, Harry" again.

Tears streamed like acid from his red, puffy eyes. It hurt. It hurt so much.

_Kill the spare!_

A deadly, green light had struck the taller teen, washing over him like a rolling wave, leaving only a lifeless shell in its wake. Cedric's strong body had simply crumpled to the ground like a discarded doll.

Harry threw his head back, screaming as if he were being tortured by a million-million hellish nightmares. It almost felt like skeletal fingers were digging into his flesh, tearing at him with a voracious hunger.

"Wake up!" He cried, throwing back the sheet, slapping his dead boyfriend's still handsome face. "WAKE UP!"

He took hold of his silent lover's torn shirt and began to shake the motionless body with all his might. Why wasn't he waking up? Why would he not open his eyes?

"GET UP!" He snarled with the rage of some wild, uncontrollable beast. His eyes were filling with an emerald madness. "STOP DOING THIS!"

"Harry!" A sullen, authoritative voice called, snapping him out of his momentary lapse from sanity.

His eyes widened in an unknowable horror, realizing what he was doing to his beloved. He collapsed against Cedric's still chest, drowning in the deepest of sorrows, holding him so very tightly. He was so very, very cold.

"Why won't he stay warm?" He asked, tightening his hold even more. His sobs racked his slender frame. "Why can't I keep him warm?"

"Harry," the sad voice said to him. He could feel a hand on his back. "You need to rest now."

"No!" Harry cried, refusing to let go. A wild, freezing wind began to stir his unruly, dark hair. "I'm not leaving him in here by himself!"

"Cedric is not in here, Harry," the professor told him.

"DON'T SAY THAT!" Harry yelled, squeezing his stinging eyes tightly shut.

He didn't want to hear this. It wasn't true. He refused to believe it.

"He's gone now," Dumbledore cooed ever so gently.

"Stop it!" Harry shrieked, shaking his head. "Shut up!"

"His parents took his remains away this morning, Harry," Dumbledore told him in soft, compassionate tones.

Harry's eyes snapped open in a blind terror. All he was holding was a thin sheet in his icy hands.

He trembled, choking on a painful wail. He fell to his knees beside the empty bed, crying into the soft fabric.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Dumbledore lamented, placing his hands on him from behind. "I'm so terribly sorry."

Something inside _The Boy Who Lived_ snapped. It sounded like the distant echo of a deadly lightning strike in his ears. He spun around on the old headmaster, grabbing him by the front of his elaborate robes, screaming in his surprised, mournful face.

"BRING HIM BACK! GIVE HIM BACK TO ME NOW!"

Dumbledore shook his head ever so slowly. His blue eyes were not twinkling and they were very wet.

"I can't do that, Harry," he gently told him, placing his withered hands over his own creamy, smooth ones. "The dead can't be brought back."

"Voldemort came back!" Harry shouted in his face, shaking him, pleading with him, damning him with his crazed eyes. "Bring Cedric back to me!"

He didn't care if it was dark magic. He wanted Cedric. All he needed was Cedric. He had no family to fall back on. His friends were of no comfort to him. All he wanted was Cedric.

"You must rest now," Dumbledore soothed, smiling ever so warmly.

That smile only served to infuriate him all the more. He hated that smile. He fucking hated it!

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Harry roared, pushing away from him, looking for an escape.

The professor suddenly had his wand pointed right at him, sending a stream of shimmering, violet light spiraling towards him. Harry threw up his hands, crying out as he fell over backwards onto the bed with a few light bounces. A silent darkness rushed over him, trapping him within its wings.

He would never be warm again.

To Be Continued…


	2. Chapter One

Winter's Icy Fingers Creep

Flora_Winters

I do not own Harry Potter and I'm not making any money here either.

Summary: Harry Potter forswears love and in the process of doing as such, his heart becomes a solid jewel of ice, transforming him into a glacial creature of cruelest beauty. This story will contain boy love, explicit violence, and a strong usage of language.

Chapter One

_The news that truly shocks_

_Is the empty, empty page_

_While the final rattle rocks_

_Its empty, empty cage_

_And I can't handle this…_

_--Peter Gabriel_

The afternoon was so beautiful. The sun was shining like a golden gemstone and the sky which jealously held it, was a flawless blue. There wasn't a fluffy, white cloud in sight.

Salty tears kept dripping from his chin. A warm wind blew through his hair, but he didn't feel it. He couldn't feel it. There was nothing left to feel. He couldn't even smell the white rose he was holding in his hands. The world was such an empty, useless thing now.

He could not take his puffy eyes off the silver casket that would soon be laid to rest in the cold vaults of the earth. The one he would forever love and grieve was resting inside, within shimmering silk and lace.

The casket was covered in white roses. He was the last one who needed to put his down. He knew that all eyes were on him. Dumbledore had seen to it. Why were all these people here? They didn't know Cedric. They didn't truly _know _him.

He would never get to gaze into Cedric's crystal-quartz eyes again, or run his fingers through his soft hair. He would never again feel his body beside him in a warm bed.

Anger flooded him. It was frigid and heartless. It should be snowing. The whole world should be dying right along with his heart. All should know and tremble in the face of his excruciating pain.

He cursed the sun he could no longer walk under with Cedric. He cursed the warmth he could no longer share with Cedric. He cursed the colorful flowers he could now longer sleep among with Cedric. He cursed, and he cursed, and he cursed them all.

All he could feel was a deep hatred for everything, because he had nothing. Why were others free to have family? Why were others free to love and keep it forever?

"Cedric will forever be in our hearts," he heard Dumbledore continue to say.

He ignored him. What use did he have for a heart now? He was never going to use it again. It hurt too much. He should simply carve the organ out and bury it along with the man it would forever belong to.

He could sense Ron and Hermione on either side of him. He wished they would just go away. They could give him no comfort, for there was none to be had. Nothing would ever give him comfort again.

He kissed his rose and placed it gently where Cedric's feet were resting within the closed casket. He felt a hand on each shoulder and he trembled under them.

Cedric was truly gone. He was never coming back. He would never again walk around a corner and bump into him. He would never be able to poke him in the nose for being an idiot, or jump on his broad back to tickle him senseless. Those strong arms would never again embrace him with such loving warmth.

He wrapped his trembling arms around himself, curing love. He cursed it for being weak. He cursed it for always being taken away from him.

"Come on, Harry," Ron whispered from his right.

Harry wanted to punch him in the face, breaking it. He wanted him kneeling at his feet, bloodied, and begging him to excuse his stupidity.

At least Hermione was smart. She always was. She knew when to keep her damn mouth shut because he knew, that she knew, that she could do nothing for him.

"Remember Cedric," Dumbledore said, causing Harry to wish he had his wand. But, the old man had taken it from him. It had to do with something about not trusting his actions. "Remember this brave, young man."

Harry could hear the sudden whispers. They were all around him, scratching, and stabbing at him.

He carefully placed his pale hands on the casket, closing his eyes against the raging flood. He tried to calm his breathing and he couldn't do it. He was too hurt. He was too angry. He wished he were frozen.

_You left me all alone, Cedric. And I hate you for it so much._

He opened his eyes, letting the tears fall as they pleased. It was like they were burning him.

_I told you to run! I begged you to get away! Why didn't you fucking listen to me? You promised, goddamn it!_

He fell to his knees. Some people gasped as petals fell around him like snow.

_You promised you would never leave me! You lied to me! You fucking lied to me, Cedric! How could you?_

He tore at the fallen roses with uncontrollable rage. The thorns bit into him, cutting him deep. His blood painted those petals crimson.

He couldn't scream out loud. He couldn't even talk. Dumbledore had taken his voice away. All he could do was silently scream in his mind.

The professor has been afraid that he would say something painful in the moment that he would not be able to take back later. Mouths had a way of wagging in ways they shouldn't. Plus, the paper would have a field day with crazy Potter's meltdown.

He cursed them. He cursed them all for being so damn stupid. Voldemort was back, murdered Cedric, and tortured him for spite. And all these fools wanted to know was how many fucking tears he was going to cry!

"Harry," Hermione whispered in concern. "You're hurting yourself."

_I hate you! I fucking hate you! How could you leave me? Why? Cedric!_

Ron pulled him back and Harry didn't even fight him. His hands were scratched, torn, and bleeding all to hell. He couldn't even feel it.

"Harry?" A mournful voice asked.

He turned his face, looking. It was Cedric's mother.

His eyes widened in horror. No! He couldn't look at her. Her son was dead because of him. It was his fault. It was his fucking fault.

She carefully knelt down, and Harry's face suddenly stung. The slap echoed all around. She had slapped him.

There were gasps and Dumbledore was pulling her away with Mr. Diggory's help. The woman was wild in her fury.

"My baby is dead!" She cried. Harry could see the ever-mounting grief and rage in her eyes. "My son is dead because of _who_ you are, Harry Potter!"

Harry suddenly felt all the coldness in the world and between the burning stars in the heavens. It chilled him down to the very marrow in his bones. It felt like ice-water was flowing through his frosted veins.

He was swept up into someone's arms and swiftly carried off before he could process what was happening to him. He could smell cinnamon and fresh fallen snow.

_Cedric, I love you…_

~*~

Charlie was sitting by the bed, watching Harry sleep. His chest was slowly rising up and down. He slept so silently. It was kind of spooky.

He had to stun Harry in order for Madam Pomfrey to give him a sleeping-draught. He had been afraid Harry would hurt himself or one of them otherwise. The poor kid was a mental mess.

His skin was pale and his unruly hair, dark. Those lips of his were so very, very red. They reminded him of blood. If his eyes had been blue, he would have been a boy Snow White.

Madam Pomfrey was bandaging Harry's scraped hands again with such tender care. She kept shaking her head every now and then, muttering under her breath in silent tones. He couldn't understand what she was saying, and he was wondering what she was thinking.

"Poor boy," she whispered, finishing with the bandages, blowing a loose lock of hair from out of her face. "Poor, poor child."

Charlie looked away from the two. He could only imagine the pain Harry must be feeling.

When he had swooped in, picking Harry up, he had never seen such a tragic look on a young man's face in all his life. He had felt like the breath had been squeezed from his lungs. It was terrible to think, but death would have been more merciful than what Mrs. Diggory had done and said in her grief. You just didn't speak to a brokenhearted, fourteen-year old like that.

Professor Dumbledore was still standing at the foot of the bed. He had such a mournful look in his un-twinkling, blue eyes. He was taking slow breaths, and his mouth kept looking like it were about to say something at any second, but kept hesitating.

Ron and Hermione had been here, but they had been sent away to pack their things. The train home for the summer would be leaving the day after tomorrow. It would be a long, silent trip. Parents were already storming the school, removing their children because of Dumbledore's very public announcement of Voldemort's return.

"I would forever appreciate if you would stay with Harry tonight, Charlie," Dumbledore said, looking right at him. His eyes were so sad. "I keep thinking that he will try and hurt himself should he be left to his own devices."

Charlie nodded his head. Of course he would stay with Harry. How could he not? It was the least he could do for the shattered teen. Harry was family. Plus, his mother would beat him with a frying-pan.

Dumbledore softly smiled. "Thank you."

Charlie watched him slowly leave the room. Dumbledore actually looked and moved like an old man. It was frightening.

"I will bring you some tea, Mr. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said, covering Harry back up, gently tucking him in. He looked so snug.

"Thanks," he told her, watching her sweep from the room. She looked so very tired. It had been a very, very long school year. But, it felt like the summer was going to be even longer.

He turned back to the sleeping beauty and frowned. Harry had lost his parents to the Dark Lord and now he had lost his boyfriend to the evil wizard as well. He couldn't even bring himself to imagine the terrors Harry must have went through when the cup had transported him and Cedric away from the school. He was surprised the boy was actually able to keep his eyes open without screaming in horrors.

Harry made a soft noise in his sleep. It sounded like a gentle whimper. His unlined face held no emotion. Had he imagined it? It had been such a quiet sound.

"Can you feel the cold?" A frosty whisper asked from beside him.

He turned with a start. It was Moaning Myrtle. What was she doing here? She rarely ever left the privacy of her bathroom.

He shook his head. "No."

Her moonstone colored eyes turned on him. It was so eerie, he shivered. Her silver face was filled with a terrible sadness.

"You will," she silently sobbed, descending down, vanishing through the stone floor in deathly silence.

He blinked several times. What in the hell had that been about? It looked like those stories about her were still true. She was moaning mad.

Madam Pomfrey came back in, carrying a tray with tea and sweets on it. She placed it down on the small table beside him, pouring him a steamy cup of amber warmth.

"Thank you," he said, accepting the porcelain teacup from her. The fresh brew smelled and tasted wonderful.

She bid him a kind goodnight, told him to shout should he need her, took one last look at Harry, and left the room for the night. He hoped he wouldn't need her. He silently prayed that Harry would sleep peacefully through the night.

"Goodnight, Harry," he said, putting his cup back down on the painted tray. "I wish you happy, tranquil, and healing dreams."

He summoned a book to read and made himself as comfortable as he was going to get on the bed beside Harry. He smiled at the young man and began to read.

To Be Continued…


	3. Chapter Two

Winter's Icy Fingers Creep

Flora_Winters

I do not own Harry Potter and I'm not making any money here either.

Summary: Harry Potter forswears love and in the process of doing as such, his heart becomes a solid jewel of ice, transforming him into a glacial creature of cruelest beauty. This story will contain boy love, explicit violence, and a strong usage of language.

Chapter Two

_I could possibly be fading_

_Or have something more to gain_

_I could feel myself growing colder_

_I could feel myself under your face_

_Under…your face_

_--Mazzy Star_

Harry was laughing. He couldn't help it. Cedric was acting like an idiot. He had the goofiest grin on his handsome face.

"Come here," Cedric teased, reaching for him with those large, comforting hands. "I just want to hold you."

Harry danced just out of his reach, shaking his head. He told him that if he wanted him, he was just going to have to catch him.

"You can run all you like, Harry," Cedric smiled ever so wolfishly. "But, I'll always catch you, no matter what."

"Even if I'm about to fall?" He asked.

Cedric nodded, grabbing hold of him, pulling him close, and rested his chin on top of the smaller teen's head. "Even if we both crash and burn."

~*~

"Such a sad little boy you are, Harry James Potter," a silver voice sparkled in his mind. It was like ice under twinkling starlight.

Heartbreaking, emerald-green eyes fluttered open with the grace of a butterfly escaping its silken cocoon. His body was chilled to the bone. He was cold. It felt so good. The cold helped him not to feel. It numbed the ache in his heart. Why was he in the hospital wing?

"Do you wish for me to take your pain away?" The female voice asked. Her glittering voice was like frost covered bells, chiming in a winter breeze. "Do you wish for me to make your heart as frozen as the icy depths of the endless sea?"

He slowly sat up on the soft bed, searching for the owner of the seductive voice. Charlie was on the bed across from him, reading a book by candlelight. But, something was wrong.

The candle flames were not flickering. In fact, they were not even burning. He looked at the fire in the fireplace. It was unmoving. The flames were frozen at a complete standstill. Charlie even looked frozen in place.

What was this? What was going on? Was he dreaming? Was time frozen? He could see his breath. That was how cold the room suddenly felt to him.

He leaned out of his bed, poking Charlie with his finger. The older man felt like he always did. He just wouldn't move, no matter what he did to him. His eyes were open and he looked like he was about to turn the page in his book at any moment.

"Come to me," the voice called to him like a siren. "Come to the window, my little Harry."

He got to his feet and the floor felt like ice under them. He walked towards the painted window, finding the glass coated in a thick frost. It was all sparkly and pretty. But, it was summer. How could there be such a frost?

"Open the window, Harry," the voice cooed to him like rolling snowdrifts. "Let me inside."

He reached out with a bewitched hand, undoing the metal latch, pulling the window open by its golden handle. A cold wind hit him in the face, causing his eyes to sting with painful tears.

The night was terribly dark and the wind was suddenly very, very still. That was when snow began to fall.

He blinked and his eyes widened in childish wonder. The glittering flakes began to swirl, dance, taking the slender form of a very beautiful woman. She floated on the air before him as if she possessed invisible wings.

Her beauty was as sharp as an icy mountain's peak. It could freeze the breath in a man's lungs.

She had flawless skin of smooth, luminous alabaster. Her vibrant hair was long, whiter than snow under sunlight. It looked like she was clothed in flowing silk of frost and billowing feathers of brightest moonlight.

It was her eyes that drew him in. They were the color of the ocean waves, frozen for all time. Each jewel was impossibly blue. No. The color blue couldn't even describe how wondrously blue they were.

He took a few steps back and she was standing tall and glorious before him. She was graceful and regal in her fierce stature.

She reached out with a radiant hand, placing it over his broken, bleeding heart. Her flesh shimmered like diamonds. Those beautiful eyes glowed with a fearsome power.

"Oh, such pain," she said. Her voice was the north wind.

He could see Cedric's lifeless body before him. He heard the echoes of his own cries and screams. Dumbledore had tried to pull him away from Cedric, but he wouldn't be moved. He had held onto him in front of everyone, pressing his face down against his, begging him to get up, screaming in blind terror.

Voldemort's laughter haunted his ears, mocking him.

"I can take your pain," the snowy enchantress told him.

He felt the sting from the slap he had received from Cedric's mother. Her words bit into him with venom from a thousand poisonous vipers.

The woman before him was glowing like a white star. Her severe face softened dramatically, but her eyes were monstrous. He was completely enthralled by her terrible, twisted beauty. She was the cold which killed all emotion.

"Will you give me your pain?" She asked with such motherly kindness, pulling him into her arctic embrace. "Will you become my little boy, Harry?"

He had no mother. He had never known a mother's love. He kept seeing Cedric and it hurt so much.

"I don't want to feel," he trembled, letting his tears fall like rain, resting his face against her frozen breast. "I don't want to feel anything ever again."

The beautiful vision gently pulled away, holding what appeared to be a single teardrop in her smooth palm. It was frozen and sparkled silver-blue.

Harry gasped when that shapely hand passed through his chest as if it were made of brilliant mist. Those icy fingers seized hold of his heart, planting the frozen tear within, like a seed.

"With every heart I hold," she smiled with such blinding, horrible splendor. "The world becomes that more cold."

Her hand pulled free and Harry felt himself falling over backwards. Where was Cedric? He had promised to always catch him.

The darkness was so white. There was snow falling all around him.

To Be Continued.


End file.
